just like an amnesiac
by raisethebets
Summary: The way Blair figures, she has several options.


**A/N:** Written pretty quickly after the finale. I'm tired of how these kids ALWAYS define themselves through their relationships, so my OTP is Blair/Being Awesome.

* * *

**just like an amnesiac**

When Blair returns from Paris, she visits Chuck. Because he was shot and for no other reason, she tells herself. She is _done_, she is totally, absolutely, completely _done_ with this chapter of her life.

Blair takes Serena with her anyway to make sure, because her own truths have come to mean less and less.

"How are you doing?" And, oh God, it's uncomfortable. Her voice sounds stilted and she's holding herself awkwardly. Blair knows what'll happen if she doesn't. She's lived the days of playing the faithful society wife to Chuck's businessman.

But she's also lived the days of broken hearts and ultimatums and melodrama.

"I feel nothing without you."

Blair can't say the same. Something inside her cracks because her whole life has just been one continued chase after an elusive cliché—_this_ cliché. Blair opens and closes the card in her hand, some dumb greeting card Serena had picked out because Blair was not going to show up empty-handed. An ugly cartoon stares back at her. It's too happy and too false.

"And whose fault was that?" Blair asks bitingly.

"What do you think happened in Prague? I would have given them anything—but not your ring."

God. Only Chuck Bass would get _shot at_ to prove a point. This is too absurd to be real, Blair thinks. She looks at Chuck's smirk and then it's thoughts of Jack and betrayal and, _oh_, "you went up there on your own." She wants to clench her fists and yell, she wants to act like the five year old she feels inside. Instead, she straightens her hands and smoothes down her skirt. When did her palms become sweaty?

"Goodbye, Chuck. We're done here."

Outside, Blair breathes to calm herself – one, two, three – and links her arm with Serena's and the crowds on the pavement make room for them. She even giggles as she flicks the stupid card into the trashcan.

* * *

The way Blair figures, she has several options. Failure is not one of them. This whole Chuck detour was simply that—and she has bigger things to conquer than the heart of a whiny prince in a tower she can never seem to climb.

So. She's putting the pieces back together and making _sure _they stay glued.

* * *

It's not until she receives her Columbia information, complete with thorough descriptions of courses, that Blair feels her future rushing back to her. And then she starts organizing and numbering. There are lists of all the classes she has to take. Lists of possible outfits (with matching headbands) for her first week at Columbia. Lists of important people that she has to befriend. Lists of the ways she could end up ruling the country (and there are many). It's crisp and clean and exactly what she needs.

"Seriously, Blair, relax." Nate says on the first day of the semester, but he's laughing and he slings an arm around her.

"This is where I belong." Blair can't help it, she knows how dorky she sounds already, so she refrains from pointing out that she's not breathing regular air, but _Columbia_ air, and she's not carrying regular books, but _Columbia_ books, and she's not walking on regular ground, but _Columbia_ ground. "You wouldn't understand."

"Blair, I _know_ you. I understand."

Blair wiggles out of his grasp. As she hugs her bag closer to her, she looks back and smiles. It's nice to be reminded that she doesn't speak a language only Chuck Bass can interpret.

* * *

Her psych class turns out to be a total dud. Blair's surrounded by enough nutcases (that she may _occasionally_ be one of) that she, in no way, wants to pursue that as a profession.

Intro to State Politics, on the other hand, is something else. If she can come out on top here, then Blair's pretty sure she can handle anything. So she becomes the first one to raise her hand and the first one to turn in assignments and the first one to ask questions. She builds herself on the rush she gets from doing everything _right_.

It's refreshing to pin her hopes on herself. Trial and error (many, many errors) have taught her that she can only control so much, and _other people_ do not fall under that.

* * *

But that doesn't mean Blair doesn't try.

"We _have_ to get you out of here sometime," Blair says, entering Serena's room one morning. "You need to go back to school. Or get a job."

"No," Serena whines, but her voice is muffled by her blankets.

Blair walks over and shoves at the lump. "Up. I have a paper to write, and I'm getting you out of here one way or another. Is this about Dan?"

"Maybe."

"What about Nate?"

"It might be about that too."

"Forget them. Think about _me_. If you don't do _something_, we can't be friends anymore."

Blair shrieks as Serena smacks her with a pillow. In the past three years, she's lost Serena and then missed Serena and then found her again. Now, Blair's surprised at how easy everything's become.

* * *

She sees Chuck again. It's inevitable, really, she tells herself as he makes his way over.

"Isn't it strange how we always find ourselves together?" He's smiling, as if he knows something she doesn't, but Blair's not interested in symmetry or circles or patterns or bad habits, and Chuck is all of the above.

"Not really," Blair answers as nonchalantly as possible. She offers him a dry hand for a handshake (for _appearances_) and moves on.


End file.
